Predators: Demons and an Angel
by Aspergian Mind
Summary: A man who has been in hell finds himself miraculously home again. Who does he have to thank? That is when Ryan realizes that out of all these 'hunters who make trophies of man' there was one like an 'angel' who helped him. But it's not over yet. Continued
1. Prologue: Returned

**Predators: Demons and an Angel**

By: AspergianMind

A man just lived in hell and suddenly wakes up at home. Who does he have to thank? Out of these 'Demons who make trophies of man' there is one who turn out to be an 'Angel' who helped him.

A/N: When working on something big, you get congested with putting more details, notes, characters, descriptions than you would anticipated and would like. So I thought I do something to serve as an outlet to bring out my primary ideas out of my yet to come works. One-shots, quick with the whole idea in one package. Appetizer for the bigger story.

* * *

_..._I fell with a thud.

Then all was black...

_

* * *

Ryan, get yourself up! This fight is not over!_

I yank myself back into consciousness, blackness replaced with blurry objects. My body feels paralyzed, fighting that last round took the last half of my comrades and took two nights and the day in the middle to finish has left me utterly exhausted, but I can't lie like this. Yet my body fights back saying it rather relax, rest for a while and take it slowly. Should I risk it? I ought to take in my surroundings to make sure, for something is different here.

My sight is fuzzy, I blink to adjust till the image becomes clear. While my body is asleep as Snow White, my eyes are wide awake as a panicking rabbit, looking around, scrutinizing every detail. First of what I see is not the sky of spotted stars above me but a ceiling of a white foam substance. That would mean I'm contained in something, a box.

This box I'm 'contained' is rather orderly and neat. No aggressive images, no grit or grime. I ache to turn my head, but it's so uncomfortable to move it while it's so comfortably laying on something. Feels like a pillow. _I know that pil__low. No, it can't be. _

Further confirmation is needed on where I am. If I'm going to strain looking anywhere, I decided to look left to the where the one source of pale, blue light is coming from. It aches as my head falls left, relaxing the left muscles while straining the right, to see a polygonal window. It stems out of the wall, with a platform to lay on, like that patio window the one I always watched the sunsets in the evening from, laying on my pillow and couch after so much hard work. Exactly what I use to do at home. This feels so much like home. It's so identical it's haunting it couldn't be a replication. This is not just feeling like home...

**_It is home!_**

_I'm back!_ I jerk my body up and suddenly my head felt ready to burst and my vision blurred as blood rushes through me. Must have been sedated really heavily, or passed out real deeply. They say in dreams you hardly move, fixed lying down. I hope this isn't me waking up now to have this just be an illusion of home washed away replaced by rocks, dirt, bones and blood.

Or has the trip to the planet been a dream? It's been a blur. I was asleep at Main Base until I saw a white light then the forest miles down. And again I passed out after I delivered the killing blow. It could be either case, I'm home or there but I've dream that I was there or now at home, or I have never dreamed it and never left.

I want this to be real. My hands been rubbing the wool surface of the couch intensely almost to the point of carpet burn. This intensity isn't felt in dreams. Feels real according to my two palms and nine fingers. Wait, nine? Whoa, I haven't looked there yet. This would prove this wasn't one long, elaborate, expansive dream if I have that one injury I did not get at Vietnam.

I put my right arm up to see my lost finger. My little pinky gone all the way down to the wrist from a narrow get away. Always thought the pinky and the thumb to be appendages from the center three. If I can do without one it'd be the pinky, I thought. Though it was cut down so far it affected the wrist's function at the carpal area, and now there goes comfort padding muscle to rest your hand vertically you never realized and take for granted.

For further assurance I look down my chest. This just confirms that it was not a dream. From scratches that you get from the rough trekking of the wilderness, Earth and abroad, to bruises coloring my skin, and these permanent scars, forever indented on my body. Each with a story from there from the first day in combat to the last thing I remembered.

Nothing compared to my stay in Vietnam.

I was among a reconnaissance squad that finally left Vietnam after having the bloodiest days of fighting, the Tet Offensive. It just demonstrated our fighting potential, enough to get a well-earned discharged by our commanders, while we were a perfect pick to 'them,' unfortunately the next day. Ironically, we had to deal with Vietcong next season when they proved themselves in the later stages of the Tet Offensive .

Why wasn't it just me? They pick the best and send them to this game-reserve planet. I have been the best and am the last one left, they could have just taken me the best and let the rest go home. All these comforts of home all around me, me feeling what my friends never gotten the chance to feel. The warm couch and cotton pillows this is too good for me to deserve and too good that all these months and years -whatever equals to a season. It's all here and I can finally let go, but never forget.

_How is this possible?_ They wanted me dead. These predators went through so much effort to put us on a planet for the thrill of their sport, I doubt they would change their mind. What is life of prey to a predator? Death, so they demonstrate their dominance over all life as accomplishment in theirs. That is all I am, a blood-bag to be spilled and bones to be displayed. It doesn't fit in.

_What is the cause of this miracle?_ A change of heart? Some code of honor? There have been a difficult case back in the first season when one of my men laid with an assassin woman from Africa and impregnated her. This created an issue, we used her as a shield for the time, until they decide to specifically return the woman home. And I don't want to get into detail how fatal that shield thing went soon after.

_Why me in this case?_ Not even the father of the coming child could return. Not only was there that disadvantage for men, but the game changed later. Some bigger, meaner predators came the next season and killed the previous set of predators. They far from it had the same sense of honor as the last ones, come to think of it I may have missed them, I think sarcastically. After that ordeal with the pregnant African, another couple tried it themselves, but that time the both of them got harpooned together, along with their would be child. I killed them all finally with a vengeance unlike I had the other predators or Vietcong, with huge help from an intervention of an unknown source. Was that alpha male I killed the last one? I don't know.

This lingering question still delays me from jumping with jovially all over the house this moment. _How did I get home?_

**_CREAK_**

That is the familiar creak of my wood floors I have walked over many years. I would love the familiar sounds of home, but after two seasons stuck in the hunt anything could be a sign of your predator.

I heard the sound from that familiar archway from between this living room into the dining room, down the length of the couch on which I was laying on. There was someone in that big shadow between at the arch. It stood taller than the seven foot arch, can't see all of the crescent head. Next closest thing to abnormal looks if ever they were mask-less is their crescent heads.

Then it very calmly, oddly, took a step forward. _Christ! It is one of them!_ I flinched, but I haven't left the couch quite. I'd damn myself for sitting like a duck, but I wait still. I could turn and run right now around the house to get to the kitchen and us all the knives if I have to, but to turn my gaze away would have it lunge at my blindside. I will let it take the first step and make that be it's mistake.

Even giving it a steely, unblinking stare it made no hostile move as it approached, just presented itself out of the shadows. As it enters the illumination of the sun I feel chills going down my spine like before, like those times a hunter reveals itself from it's invisible camouflage. But this one is entering as a shadow in a different manner, not hostile but docile, and in different form, not masculine but...feminine?

This beast has bare nothing on, not just gear but flesh too. I haven't seen one so skinny; not such imposing bulky arms that could crush your rib cage but a flowing grace to it. Gazing upon what little there is to go on it's utility belt, just a dagger it seem to have interest in using, I couldn't help but see how so attractively curved those hips are. Those are something I'd see in bikini models that invite me for a good time not a monster that is destined to send me to my maker. These curves are extremely off as they are beautiful, even those familiar dreadlocks are so long to reach down over the chest like women have it. And what's those two lumps on 'her' chest?

I just have to draw to an outrageous conclusion that it is also...a female. This is getting intense, in a new hormonal sense that is.

Then 'she' says...** "I help you." **Despite of it being female the voice comes off as guttural and almost beastly. But there's also a bit of affection in it too that I'm surprised at that more than the growling that I expected. This female of mutilating alien species is coming off as gentle, it's bewildering to me.

Getting past that, I understand exactly what she means. That explains those miracles that occurred later that second season. First there were trails purposefully put there to follow, advanced warning signs, those hunters were furious at their lose of surprise all the time, I couldn't understand how and why. It was like the intervention of an angel how miraculous it played.

She pulls something out, I prop myself into a leap position to bound for the kitchen knives. Rather than lunge it, she underhand tossed and have it land on my feet. It is that disc thing that I killed off the predator with! Still stained with dried glowing, green blood.

**"I returned you."** She must have been a trained hunter and pilot to evade those hunters and have taken full control of their ship when my men killed them all and I, the last one, finished off the last one, their brutish leader.

"Um, thank you." Never would I think that I'd talk to one, let alone it be capable of human speech.

Then she does something that I guess is extolling. Murmuring harmoniously, something like melody-ing a poem in a foreign language or an animal with a guided consciousness. She must have understood my 'thank you.' This really does seem to mean a lot to her that she helps a human -first time?- beat a her masters.

She steps down. Looking at me at my eye level sitting on the couch now. Her skin color is unspectacular to all other predators I've seen. Long black mandibles might resemble wavy hair, how areas of the whole flow their own way, going down over her chest. Can't see the breasts covered behind but still see the impression on the mandibles. This makes me terribly uncomfortable. Uninteresting tan, compared to mine, with dark brown freckles all over. Nothing on but a green bottom wear, like a skirt is my best comparison.

She reaches for my chest pocket, pulling out a picture of me among my entire squad. It was taken after the Tet Offense, we were lucky and/or the very best one to have sustain minimal casualties as we confronted those Vietcong. The significance is that we fought them head on and managed to get only scratches. Our strength or their weakness? I turn it to see our addresses to visit each other, or should we fall on our next round, we be there for the family. Which reminds me that I have that duty to attain now. How observant of her. She even knows where I put it, she really has been watching me.

**"Loss."** She shows a necklace, not made of jewels but bone, but marvelously crafted nevertheless. A memento just like my photo, but which kind of loss exactly? Her parents killed? A lost lover that the brute took and she is his prize? Could she have been one of the previous predator's from before? Although I don't have the exact answer yet by her few words, I feel the center emotion of what she is conveying. I realize by the comparison that we both suffered lost and that these monsters can still feel hurt in their hearts.

Her breathing becomes more whimpering begging for affection. I can't explain how out of place _I think_ it is. The hideous jaw, giant forehead, you'd expect ugly emotions from ugly looks. I was raised up during the Civil Rights period. Though I was told already to respect people of different color, it was something else when they are integrated into your school and life as one.

My life and generation is about taking in things not quite like our parents or grandparents. Anti-society hippies, technology boom to new opportunities, guerrilla warfare, law enforced integration, impending nuclear holocaust, me in particular being on a alien planet hunted by monsters and have survived thanks to one of them.

Succumbing to my sympathies, my hand starts to rise, going to pet her like I did to that dog I had as a boy, a stray that I brought home and needed love just like this 'predatoress' needs the same. I wouldn't go for the head, a bit awkwardly shaped still to look at. And besides, she ain't no dog, she's...not human, but sentient not in our terms, we ourselves have been the only reference so far for that. So I start with her slim shoulders, but still just as thick as my 'steely bulk' ones. A touch at a shoulder is something for family and friends higher than just a pet.

She is startled by this, can tell that much by the flinch her shoulder gave. I continue to reach and touching a second time she doesn't move. Rhythmic motion of my hands is relieving the tension she must be feeling. Doing all that to save her master's toy by turning it against him must be nerve-racking. Worry gone, eroded away, something else ignites in her. A purr emerges. A loud yet comforting purr, like those tamed lions at the zoo that have developed a bond with humans beyond survival of the fittest. _This is going great._

Her breathing starts to get uneasy, hyperventilating looking around frantically. Something must have jumped into her head. Then, beyond all I ever could have expected, she starts getting up and raises her leg onto the couch and lands herself on top of me. Lack of understanding is especially hazardous when one doesn't understand what what the other person's version of love meant. Compassionate, caring love was what I was doing, not implying physical sex love!

I try to push her back, but my hands accidentally land on her breasts. She is growling but rather playfully. I realize she wasn't wearing much of a top, just long drooping mandibles. They are a quite a big size bigger than what the wide reach of my hands could grasp. _Soft...__GAH! What am I thinking!_ I pull my hands away.

"No." I protested, but I couldn't yell at the top of my lungs. Hands curled ready to protect my face if she takes the next step.

This thing is clearly abused so much that the only way she thinks she can express compassion was through lustful full out sex, feeling good down there. There's nothing I can rightfully tell off what age she is at, she could be a teen for all I know. I've seen those sex slaves in Vietnam before, naturally 'petite' to where you can't tell whether in their teens or tweens. She is whether younger or older than I could guess, beastly either way. But there seems to be something embedded in here over a length of time. A sense of despair and clueless in, well not aim as in a soldier's motivation, but in a love kind of way. It could be that, or this is perfectly just part of their tradition that the lady sleeps with the victor.

**"Yes."** She then grabs my hand. My arm stiffens, ready to recoil if she plans to have me 'groop' her again. But instead she places them on her hips. Still doesn't feel right sensing the mouth watering physical features. But I feel long marks. I gaze down to she that she has revealed her scared hips. Poor thing was held so roughly, particularly there. My softer hand touch seems to sooth her, now she's purring. I rub them to get a feeling how deep they go as if to pet, she wants it there so give it there. Great, this still is giving her the wrong message. I'll assume this will get ugly, but after terrible abuse, should I give her a better treatment?

She seems to trust me, or for once wants her to be in control. Golly she could have done this all so she would at last have a guy she can master. No that goes against first impressions that she acted like she was trying to correspond with me leaving it to the mercy of me. She knows I can care for my fellow beings as much as I hate her kind to have taken them from me. She watched me, take out the photo I shared with my comrades who were all that was humanity on that planet.** "Trust. Me. You."** She's putting it all in my control, kind of. _Do I want to that is?_

I glance down to see how close this is getting. I got my pants on, layered, and she's got nothing but a loincloth. Shivers run up my spine as she finally lands herself on my groin, scarcely felt the weight even by how intense this heat is. The hand on her hip leaves to feel her belly. Leaving those scared sides to the soft underbelly feels so female human-like. She gives a low moan, still animal-like but the lust is the same. _Maybe I do want to take her, after she uttered only three sentences!_

Trying to reach for the back of her neck was a bit of a stretch, even if she was leaning down on me some. I see how big she is, has the build of slender 5'6" lady, but her size made the features extra large, not obese but still large and plump. My descriptions of her are leaning less from her monster features and more to her sexual attraction. _What is this world coming to?_

Getting her by the neck now, I gently pull her closer to have a good long look. This is closest I've gotten to look at a predator. The feelings and situation is switched backwards, looking at her face inches away those teeth and mandibles above me is not so frightful as seeing those hunters masked or that rare occasion when they take it off for serious business. This isn't a cloud on judgment, this is a reset of mentality._  
_

Is she really beautiful to turn my opinion on that 'ugly motherf**king face' 180 degrees in the other direction? My gaze is past the crab-like mandibles and into her eyes. Emerald, brilliantly shining. There is a soul encased in there, and I wonder what else I'll get to know from deep within during the unknown future that lies ahead. _Seriously I have no idea what's next beyond tonight._

My hands stroke her canvas skin that webs those mandibles together. They do feel like cheeks. I wonder if she's blushing even? Now I'm imagining what fond emotions could she possibly express totally disarming her hostile features. Happiness in a smile, laughing -giggling if it could- not like the blood-lust ones I heard before, anything I see in a human I wouldn't fathom in her. I spend half of my life daydreaming relationship experiences with women I wish I could as on a date. And, shit, this is getting really close to being an actual girlfriend experience. _Maybe my only one from now on! Where else and who else can she go to?_

I comb through her dreadlocks, wondering if it's as alive as human hair by the plastic-like texture -I don't know what else to describe this alien kind of feature. A forehead could be called bald, but nah, I say it's a more impressive display of crests than a lack of hair. This convincing of myself that this face is prettier than you think isn't going alter my view of her right now, yet so foreign those emerald eyes, hypnotically sensational they are, I wouldn't care much else how she looked.

There is one thing that I know would also be just the same. My hand leaves face and explore further down to her breasts and to her ass. Back and forth I feel them thoroughly. The roundness and smoothness on my fingers arouse me instantaneously. Her purring intensifies to loud motor. _Oh, dear, should I do this?_

I slow down getting oriented back to my rational self. _This is the last draw. _Her purring dulls down and her breathing still in a deep inhale and exhale. She looks disappointed. Recovering she bends down to my ear. **"Take me."** She whispers, not a growl but a breath, a clear exhale of air sounding identically human._  
_

Oh, after death do I want to be alive again. After living life as such a hell you wonder why you want live still, it's the greatest welcome to be greeted with the ultimate pleasure of life. Ironically the same one from the species who have destroyed my life has restored it for me and is granting _more_.

"Yes." _Yes, I do want her._

I always thank the ladies with a kiss, either a peck or envelope in passion depending. How will I thank her with a kiss? This time I don't ignore and look inside her mandibles. The fleshy inside is moist and the mouth is toothy with no lips. This will be a challenge.

"Name?" She tilts her head curiously. I put hand to the chest. "Me, Ryan. You...?" I lay my hand on hers, fingers apart to spread the warm touch.

**"Me, Dahdtoudi."**

"Thank you...Dahdtoudi." I whispered. Then I reach down deeply into her mouth trying hard as I could, starting my even greater part of my thanks.

We both wanted to get out of hell.

And we did.

* * *

To be continued...?

* * *

A/N: Thought I do something alternative, say like reversing the roles and giving a different set of motivations. I was kind of concerned that describing too much, and that including his previous circumstances in his life would branch it out too far. But since this is a pivotal moment in his life it'd call all other events that affected his evolution as a person.

Do I want to continue it? Yes and no. I make this self-contained while pondering if there are things to explore, what could possibly happen next, there is a lot of potential for continuing the story. Though I have to not expand this too far like half of my work that isn't getting off the ground.


	2. Chapter 1: Welcome Home

**Demons and an Angel**

Chapter 2 - Welcome Home

A/N: To you readers, I have decided to continue the story. As I write further in, for I wanted it'd seem like I would have to reset at places, including for the lead character. But I thought the opening chapter would work as an out of nowhere event, something he was forced into, or was under a different mindset because of the situations he endured for so long, then suddenly his urge to restore his old self sets in as he is returned, and never realizing ''all" the lasting consequences of what happened.

* * *

_My eyes open up to above._

For so long it has been leaves of the trees, the rocks of a damp cave, the stars of an unrecognizable night sky that my head looks up to. Either it was in Vietnam or on that game preserve planet there is the wild instinct to where you have to rest but never slumber into deep sleep, having to sleep up so to see around and above with less hassle, to keep your friends close whether it be your comrades or your metal piece weapon. What thrills of comfort it brings me that I see something as mundane and settling as white plaster on my bedroom ceiling. Sights of home are assurances to my eyes. I've been safe and secure enough to sleep like a log and can continue to safely slumber through the day as long as I want, naming the little blessings that must never be taken for granted.

How about the feeling, in bed with these sheets of cloth called blankets? Oh, what beautiful comfort this soft wool is. My head rested on the pillow I look out the window seeing that old lush conifer tree horizontally than vertically. I love walking through the coniferous forest. Then there is the other forest, the rain Can't wait to walk through my own trails I made trekking the forests. I don't need to go to park entrances at Elwha or Dosewallips in the Olympics, I got it literally a half-hour hike away to protect, guarantee never disturbed forests. No more worries. To relax finally from their wars or my wars will soon have me reconcile what life is.

As I take all the external goings on, there is this unusual after glow effect cruising through my body. The last time I felt that was the morning I had to leave for Vietnam. That last time solely with the most important person of my life. Her name is summoned.

_Rosaline...I miss her so much._

When I can break my blissful slumber, I'm going to spend the whole day finding her and make amends with her. No doubt so much has changed in me in war and there's much to conciliate, but I'll do anything to change back for her. Can I? Right now all I'm doing is lying in bed rehabilitating with simple things such as the smell of this house's wood floor. Can I regain my affection for the whole people of my town, the state of Washington, my home planet?

Of course I can, the sun for instance. I feel that the star of which my own planet orbits is now emerging, always welcoming me to another day on Earth. But it's heat is oddly only partially radiating my back. I turn over to my other side to see why, but what should be the sun out the window is instead a larger humanoid mass under the covers with it's back to me, and it's dreadlocks.

Naturally I jumped, my body -more my arms, my legs are rather numb- pulsed into defense stance when my animal instincts turn on again. In combat, it's the proper condition to react on nerves than emotions. 'Cause later, then, do the memories and emotions come from before.

_Oh, it's her._ Dau—or something, what was it? My breathing slow with a sense of assurance returning, reminding me of the calm that came over last night. _Calm? _Is that the right word? Yes, I'd say I am more secure around this first female specimen I've ever seen than with all the males I had to kill, but having to sleep with it is not normal. I peak under the sheets to see her almost bare bottom. A loincloth unfortunately is penetrable.

I crawl out of bed to see her face again. I know well their crab-like face, their webbed outer jaw with a toothy lip-less interior, but what was exceptional about her?

My tired arms lift my body upright. Then in my first move to get my legs standing, my pelvis aches like hell. I lost my footing and dropped my ass hitting the wood floor. Groaning at the frustration than the pain -having had worst- I recuperate. Walking around the bed, I oversee her body under the sheets. Seeing her bare back, rough and scarred at places color tone not of any shade of human, a sprinkle of a few spots. Even looking down, she looks big. Seven and half feet I would imagine.

On the other side, I stumble rather gingerly lower myself down to my knees. So seeing her face was like it being literally thrown at me like a scare-jump in a horror film, only it wasn't horror or a film. It stuns me still now seeing her in daylight than moonlight. No hair for eyebrows, but a most distinctive brow ridge. Her rather orange colors are not as bright and threatening as what top breeding hunters go for, but that crescent head is fabulous. Those mandibles that were web to a unappealing mouth are even tucked in like bat wings. Neat, maybe cute making her look small chinned, even with no lips.

And those emerald eyes, were they really dreamy or was it my memory from a dream? She's sleeping with them shut now, I sure want to see them again to see their hypnotic power that must of overcome me last night. The one identifiable feature, most resembling of a sentient being in all their monstrosity.

Her hand is rough in texture, big and…dirty. Man, she left some dirty paw prints on the bed sheets. The carpet too. My side was also dirty too, standing over my body literally imprinted. _Well gone for months no bath, what would you expect?_ Then I realize for the first time that my basic clothes are still on, and of course my pants unzipped and belt unbuckled.

At the foot of the mattress, there are two spots looking like they've been gouged out. Or clawed into by two large feet. She would be kneeling on the bed to do that. And her hands would be...Claw marks on the bed's headboard? Like the mark left by a grizzly bear. That would place me right under her doing the 'cowgirl.' That would explain my aching pelvis. Must have gotten insane last night. _But was that good for me?_

Daringly, I glide my hand over her hip. Feeling the curves as I would any lover, as I did with Rosaline on our final night. The flow is like any other female human. If I was blind I would find it mouth-watering the same as a hu- _Don't ponder the 'if's' or 'maybe when blind.' She's an alien, you can see that._

I recollect my night of decisions I would not -had not- ruminated on enough. She saved me by means of instigation, returned me home in an instant it felt like. And for all that she did I am grateful for that. My part; I supposedly killed the ones responsible for killing her family, so she had lost love and must have been assaulted sexually. She's not the enemy nor should she be my lover.

This affair with Dau- whoever is not who I expect to celebrate my return home with. With Rosaline it felt right... Uncomplicated. It was nineteen months of all the occasions to talk to her, sharing experiences with her, whether it be hiking in the Olympics or our attempts at boating and our weekend at Seattle. This with 'Ms. Foreign-name' was a one-night stand where all she could summon were just a few basic words, meaning no impact, from her strictest, most limited English.

_Scoffs._ Should I teach her so she could talk to other humans as well? Yeah, that will get her off my back.

Now I gotta go wash up, get dressed, and... see what life throws at me next. I walk with my aching pelvis to check the closet. Good, extra sheets. Good, old clothes. I don't know if I'm in the mood for the bright colored ones that is. Too optimistic and fancy-free. I didn't feel like wearing them much after the Draft anyway. Though there's a question about my car. Is it still there? I wonder if I could take a shower and get dressed quick enough to get out of here before she wakes up? But there's my sympathetic side. I need to address things clear with her, how to function and do the right things during her temporary stay. Temporary.

Into the bathroom I limp. All the hygienics are at last in my reach. Toothbrush, floss, shampoo, etc. First thing I want out of all things is the mirror. I take off my shirt to inspect my body of scars and bruises. Taken a beaten by man, nature, and monster, but still in one piece. There were oddly some fresh ones up my chin, no more than a day old. Oh, yes, my attempt to kiss the jaw within the mandibles. Bold and stupid attempt, human. No need to unbuckle or unzip these pants, unfortunately one of us did it sooner. Off with my stained underwear, I see the skin of my pelvis bruised close to purple. No wonder it aches walking. How heavy was she?

Naked but safe, I feel secure enough to take a shower for the first time since I left port in Vietnam. Never should a soldier let his guard down or his clothes in combat, but never could I afford to even take a piss or a shit while always running from Predators. You know, taking off my shirt I realized, I wasn't even in combat uniform just dressed in service uniform upon departure, so that was a strike out for me and my man to be totally unsupplied.

Turning on the faucet, I welcome the barrage of water. Amazing clean, hot water cleansing me thoroughly. Not cold, rain that dampens you for days on end. My hands massage my muscles, warranted after their duty to save this soul. Combing my hair with shampoo has made it feel more free and flowing than I could remember. Rubbing on the skin takes off all the months of stool, chemical mixtures, dirt, and blood, if not all the memories. The conflicts amongst mankind, the mutilation of man by advanced species from beyond.

Scrubbing every inch as hard as I can, my hands wonder down to my genital and massage it gently feeling how laxed it was after work last night. Funny, how this morning is following a similar routine I had with every night experience with a girlfriend. Something triggered it that night, we sleep, then figure out what is going on. She's not like others who came before, just like nothing will be the same after.

_No, I wish to return._

I hear big footsteps stepping from what is approximately my bed. They head towards the bathroom. Redirecting shower-head, I open curtains to see her standing out from my home settings like a sore thumb. Not only by her dirtiness, but her humanoid features. She sees my clothes on the floor and the water shower on my nakedness. Now suddenly she stairs at me finally face-to-face with her emerald eyes. So bright and foreign, they take my breath away to another, other planet.

She purrs stimulated. "Oh, boy." I uttered out loud but she pays no mind to it.

She unties her loincloth, her one dress ware, moves her dreads behind her shoulders revealing her breasts. Cup size c, I reckon. Oh, what a sight the female body shape is. She has all the characteristics of swimsuit model, a woman blemished with scars suits her physique, but her long sharps 'nails' and everything from the neck up..._NO!_

Return from relax back to tense. It's the same feeling I came over last night, but I'm still frightened. This is not right to me so I wasn't willing then. She, of course, must have seduced me, being on top of me. How did we bring it upstairs? It was her carrying me I bet. I do not want it again.

She is going to take her first step. Obviously stopping a seven and a half foot female with likely three times a human's strength won't be easy to be in wrestling. Don't need to, just push always a sign of might, being authority. But I can't reach her shoulders, but she's so high I'd aim instinctively at her…breasts and arouse the wrong emotions further again.

First giant clawed foot in. Observing her legs so close. As she was going to plant the next foot, having all her weight and balance on the other, she slips. Her massive frame slides down knocking me off my feet. Their impact is like a stomping horse. Crunched and aching my footing is lost and I landed with a thud on her chest.

**_YERP!_**

Yelped. She actually yelped. I never would have expected such an acute sound from these predators after hearing all their clamorous roars.

I chuckled at the irony. Now I'm on top this time. Now I'm in control to play with her. I was about to grab for her breasts, planning to plant kisses on her neck for my chance to have the advantage. Then it struck me that I done this to Rosaline before, shower and all. I am back and want to be settled as much to normal, but what about her? Earth is not home to her. And what about her insisting physical relationship? Got to stay neutral until I know my own bearings at home.

I withdrew from her and crouched to a fetal position on the other side, the sense of shame rebounding._ What am I still doing? I'm back home, I should think about getting back with my family...and with Rosaline._

From what I can tell off just seeing the female predator's eye expressions, her muscles are flinching below and far side rather than from the brow as usual. Downward brows to center have always meant anger, hate, contempt as I always saw in predators, but opposite sides and wincing cheeks is like a hurt and confused girl trying to hold back her tears.

Is that what I really am able to see and read? Just through her emerald eyes? Or her large brow ridges?

She is really confused right now-

_**SLAM!**_

"What the…?" I get back up standing.

"Hello? Anyone up there?" Who'd ask that question in my house?

I ran out of the shower, giving myself a quick wipe with the towel. Can I change back into my clothes or go like this? Dignified or exposed? Back into the dirt? I don't think so! I hear footsteps ascend, can't let him see her and have that kind of exposure.

I must go down now and stop him. Wait, there is a bathrobe, much better.

I step up to the top of stairs, trying to look as dignifying in a bathrobe, "Yes? Who's in my house?"

"Your house? Sir, I..." He stopped to take a scrutinizing look. "Oh, my God, it's you."

"Yes, it's me, Ryan. And you?" Only potent memories of my old life have really come clear in war. He was not one of them.

"I'm Frank. You know, your old elementary school principal?" Reason self-explained.

"Of course I know you, but why are you suddenly principal of my house?" I humored him to warm up to him. He lightly chuckled, not wholeheartedly by the fact I'm here.

"I was assigned as the caretaker of the house while you were gone."

The bathroom still to my right, I glanced in. She's still staring at me. Upset I can tell by her piercing green eyes. She positions her hands ready to get up. She's not waiting.

I guide Frank down the steps, though my feet ache. "I guess that would make you the janitor instead."

"Oh, not if I catch kids playing too close near by." His humor now sinking in and realized. "But, gosh, you came back without a word, in fact late by abou-"

"Well, go send the word that I'm back."

"Can't we have coffee first? I'd like to hear your stories now."

"Honestly, while in my bathrobe?" Though that offer made my eyes wonder into the kitchen to look at the calender. I try to naturally carry the conversation over there, walking now from the stairs, around through the dining room -not the living room- to the kitchen. "Seriously a soldier..."

Date: October 5, 1968

My ship left on April 20th. Still same year, but my God, over five months I was gone. I was fixated on that date until Frank continued, unaware of my stunned stare at the calender.

"I have to admit if I had known that you would be here I'd expect you in worn, torn uniform."

"Come 10 minutes sooner you would have seen that." _And more…_ "But still I think the honor should be for my parents first."

"Alright, I'll get them, and your college buddies too."

"Whatever." A full-throttle back to old life is something I would like, please. Speaking of which... "How's Rosaline?"

"She's doing fine. Has found a better job than a waitress, and is working on a relationship, if that's its progress."

Oh, getting comfortable and doing well for herself without me. Suddenly my twisted imagination has me going _'Ha, you got a new fuckbuddy while you were alone? Well look what I picked up!'_ How often do I appear to be senseless to Frank here? "Alright, tell her too. You know what, make it a public announcement." A full-throttle back to old life is something I would like, I state again. Keep _her_ away.

"Hey, Brinnon, Washington is just 500 people, you're big news without needing the headlines. But sure I'll spread the word. And also, I do want to hear the story behind your souvenirs."

That comment immediately nodged me the wrong way. "What souvenirs?"

"You know that mask and disc-like blade weapon that you brought home."

Coldness blew me over me. Not from any breeze that may have so happen to blown in through some open window upon my wet body, but stupefied by the revelation that some artifacts from a place no one could conceive of, was in sight of this chubby, old man.

This secret, the greatest and hardest to bear in my life, will bust wide open... unless I should answer him falsely. Fake simile. "Oh, those; I bought them from an antiquity shop."

"I almost expected them to be trophies. Like you were fighting tribes rather than 'gorillas.' In fact, by the bloodstain I would assume the Commies weren't human." Drat, the blood! "Anyway, I'll be there with your parents to hear the story."

"Take...your...time..." I said in a near daze of overwhelming befuddlement. _Nice job, Ms. Foreign-Name._

Frank walks out the door, I follow him to the porch to see that he leaves. All the while I'm seeing the old, safer if not safe, forests of home. Let a bear come and eat me now. I would let that predator do it now actually.

His Chevy is parked in front of the stairs waiting on the driveway turn-around. He ignites the engine and cruises down the long straight, narrow road, the clear-cut serving as a canyon in the vast coniferous forest. Watching every minute until that car is speck, then no more.

The word is out.

_Welcome home, Ryan. _

* * *

A/N: Seriously that's just a third of his problems so far. I'm working on so many other things that I feel obligated to get done all at the same time. The final touches were harder this last week than the past few months. All I can say now is that updates will likely be very infrequent.

Have some kind of foundation for at least three more chapters and know fairly well what course to take. All I can say is I'm trying to shed some new light, bring some new perspective into motivations from the familiar list of recurring characters in the franchise(s).

P.S. Q: Why Brinnon, Washington? A: Opposite of Twilight in terms of quality and location.


End file.
